“Tell me more about your grandfather,” Dr. Harris continues. “You said he set the bar for how you wanted your relationships to feel?”
A memory from my childhood hits me. I can see my grandparents dancing around the kitchen, laughing as Frank Sinatra plays through the small handheld radio sitting on the kitchen counter. “He and my grandma were always happy. They loved each other so much, it was sickening really,” I say through a laugh. “Their relationship was the complete opposite of what my parents had, and I wanted Tori and I to have that too. It was all I could think about.”
Dr. Harris sets his pen down on his notepad and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes when we have these two opposing viewpoints, Elliot, it can make us romanticize certain things and villainize others. You focus on the happy moments between your grandparents, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t have their share of problems and disagreements.”
“True…”
“And since you only saw the good, the bad with your own parents was magnified. As a result, I think part of your struggle with this failed relationship is the mismanaging of your expectations.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“Disappointment comes from our expectations not being met. In other words, part of why you’re battling so much with what happened was because you had such high expectations of what could have been, but it wasn’t really there to begin with.” He glances down at his pad of paper. “Over the past three weeks, you’ve mentioned numerous things that occurred in your relationship that you didn’t address—Tori’s unhealthy boundaries with her job, her convincing you to have kids when you didn’t want them, and even how you felt your affection was one-sided. The thing is, without a partner who wants many of the same things as you and is willing to compromise on others, it’s hard to ever achieve what your grandparents had.”
I blink several times as I process his words. “So, me wanting that type of relationship and having it are two different things?”
He nods. “Precisely. And as you discovered with Tori, she wasn’t invested in your relationship the way you were. So, even though you had the best of intentions, the relationship was doomed from the start.”
I glance over at his bookshelf. “Which is why I feel like now I was more in love with theideaof her, and I’m placing all of the blame for this failure on myself.”
Dr. Harris smiles. “Precisely.”
***
Me:I guess therapy isn’t so bad.
The message goes from sent to read in an instant. My knee bounces up and down as I wait for a reply.
Dilynne:Is that your way of saying that I was right?
Me:No, this is my way of saying you can leave me alone now.
Dilynne:You’re welcome, Elliot. I’m so glad you can admit that I’m the most intelligent person you know.
Me:I’m serious, Dilynne. You don’t need to check on me anymore.
Dilynne:When’s the last time you had a drink?
Me:It’s been two weeks.
Dilynne:That’s not very long…
Me:You’re not my mother.
Dilynne:Thank God for that. But seriously, Elliot. You’re making progress, which is great. Just don’t think you’re magically cured after seeing a therapist for a few weeks. Setbacks are bound to happen.
Me:You know, the more you check in on me, the more I’m beginning to think we might actually be friends.
Dilynne:See? That right there tells me that you’ve definitely been drinking.
I laugh as I type out my reply.
Me:Nope. Sober as hell, unfortunately. But I think I’m right. Only a friend would have checked up on me for this long, right?
Dilynne:I told you, I just couldn’t insult you normally without feeling guilty about it. So, now that you’re on the mend, we can go back to our normal behavior.
The phone loads with a picture of her staring at the camera and flipping me off.
I stare at it, a smirk on the corner of my mouth, and then the strangest thing happens…